Illegal Seizure
by The Cajun Russian
Summary: X3: Last stand add on. Gambit. In the movie, the use of the cure was very clear. But it’s extent of its abuse was only implied... All new Chap 8!
1. A Beginning

This is a add-on to X3. (I could not believe they didn't have that spicy Cajun we all love!)

This could be one-shot, of it could expand. It's all relative...

Summary: In the movie, the use of the cure was very clear. But it's extent of its abuse was only implied- a story of escape. Gambit

Illeagal Seizure

A "cure".

An answer to "problems."

Problems, Dr. Jennings reflected, like the one they'd been dealing with for months. The security government intelligence base, located in Cleveland, had been dealing with a number of break-ins. Break-ins in which highly sensitive mutant files were either being copied or simply disappearing.

Unfortunately, there was no trace of what had happened. Standard measures, perimeter guards, and the finest state-of-the-art security all showed no trace of their phantom. It was only when they had turned the computer monitors themselves into one-way, infrared cameras that they finally caught their perp. Not that it had been easy. The modifications had taken days, and the revision would take additional time. The whole system was under. But the gamble had been worth insuring the safety of the information.

But even then there was problems. The offender, due to security reasons, could not be released into standard custody, due to the nature of the information, but also due to his nature. Nothing they had could hold him long, and only with constant sedation was he safe. With this in mind, Dr. Jennings had made an executive decision and placed a call.

Illustrating the necessity of the prisoner being rendered harmless, the amount of manpower he'd expended, not to mention property damage, added with his knowledge, persuaded the powers that be to grant her request. The small set of vials had arrived, and she did not waste any time.

She prepared the syringe, and put on the plastic gloves. Behind her, the door was opened, and four soldiers came in, barely restraining a struggling figure. The "problem". As they tried to bring him to the medical table, fashioned with thick restraints, Dr. Jennings observed the criminal in a detached manner.

He was yelling in slurred English and French, and his dirty, shoulder length, russet hair masked his face. His movements, though dulled by the drugs, were unnaturally graceful and quick. His tall, lean frame belied the strength which he threw against the soldiers. They finally slammed him onto the table and began strapping him down. His hair, thrown back, revealed his young, stubbly face and red on black eyes, marred by the spit, sweat, and glazed look.

His legs were still free as she advanced toward him, the syringe aiming for his bared forearm. The weeks of sleeplessness, the drugged yells, the explosions, all would be "solved" with 75 milligrams.

As his glazed eyes feverishly scanned the room, his eyes fell upon the needle. Immediately his eyes became more focused and desperate, and his struggles stopped. Instead, his clenched hands began to glow pink. It spread to the buckles, and there was a blinding flash and bang. Reeling, the guards and Dr. Jennings blinked to clear their vision.

She was aware of yells and orders being barked. The convict was nowhere to be seen. Just outside the medical lab's door, there was a air vent, not even two and a half feet wide. The grate was gone. Cooly, not letting on her growing frustration, she stalked through the fast gathering group of soldiers. Away from the noise, she pressed speed-dial on her cell. One ring for pickup.

"Yes?"

"Sir, our gambit's gone."

ooo

Well? What you people think? Should I leave it one-shot, or go story with it? Review...review...


	2. Patty

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 2: Patty

Disclaimer: see chap 1.( I DO own Patty, though)

Summary: Remy gets a helping hand.

xxx

Getting out of the compound had been easy. Getting out of the compound after two full days of drugs and no food had been a miracle.

Unable to fully focus his eyes or mind, he had gone purely by instinct. He went for the ventilation system, and put some distance between him and the guards, only to find himself lost in the bowels of the complex. Slowly, winding through vents and crawlspaces, he had managed to follow pipes to the main sewer line. He had stayed underground for a while, then came up a maintenance shaft, which was along a road. Looking around, he realized that it was dark, and there was a gas station a few hundred feet away. He made toward it, dizzy and sick.

By the time he reached the door, he was almost dead on his feet. The drugs in his bloodstream, along with the hunger pangs, were causing his vision to swim. He felt in his coat pockets for his wallet, but found it missing, along with all his equipment. Sitting down heavily on the bench outside the door, he cursed his luck, but stopped. It could be worse, he reminded himself. He could still be a detainee, without his powers.

Slipping out of his tattered coat, he ripped open a bottom seam. An emergency stash of two hundred dollars, tracking strips removed, reassured him immensely. He got up and went into the gas station, his eyes downcast, for fear someone see his eyes. Mildly staggering, he made a beeline for the sunglasses rack. Quickly grabbing the largest, darkest pair, he slipped them on. Then he hastily grabbed an armload of food, and two energy drinks, and went to the counter.

xxx

Patty looked up from her newspaper and put her cigarette on the ashtray. Her usual crisp manner faded. The kid, about 18, in front of her looked like hell-dirty, underfed, and shaking slightly. Probably a druggie or a runaway, she thought. "This all?" The kid nodded. As she rang up the items, the kid grabbed one of the checked drinks. Opening it, he drank it down eagerly, spilling some onto his already filthy clothes. He was in no shape to travel, Patty decided. "Need a ride to town?" He nodded, digging into the food. "I'm done here at 3, if you wanna wait two hours." He nodded, his attention still on eating. She directed the kid to the "office", with a desk and couch, where he immediately crashed.

Working graveyard at an interstate gas station is never totally quiet. Truckers came, some of them regulars, swapping news and joking. When Ralph, her relief, came, she went back and got the kid up. He was like a zombie. As she led him out, one trucker laughed and shook his head. "Patty, you're taking in _another_ one?" She made a rather rude reply. Getting into her old rusty pick-up, they set off toward Painesville, just east of Cleveland.

"So," she said, getting onto the highway, "What's your name, kid?" "Not a kid," he protested woolly. She laughed. "Everyone's a kid when you're over fifty. What's your name?" The kid shifted, restless. "Remy," he mumbled. "Well, Remy, if you want, you can come to my house and clean up. Otherwise, I can drop you off at a bus stop." He nodded. Well, _that_ didn't help much. "How 'bout you stop at my place. Get a shower, some real food. Okay?" Another nod. He was falling asleep.

When she parked at her little one-level house, she got Remy out and helped him inside. Patty handed him some towels, and soap and shampoo she'd picked up from some hotel. She also got him a pair of socks, black sweats and t-shirt she kept in reserve. She pointed him to the bathroom, changed, and started cooking up some easy-on-the-stomach food.

xxx

Remy's foggy brain came to as he closed the bathroom door, and he about panicked. What the _hell_ was he doing here! Everything, from the escape to the ride here, came back. Remy was immediately angry with himself. How could he be so careless and drive with this lady, who for all he knew could be a pimp, to who knows where? But, calming down, he reasoned that it was all for the best. He was feeling sorta better after eating and sleeping, and if this went wrong, he was sure could get away now. Besides, the offer of a shower was too good to pass up.

He emerged later, clean, damp, head pounding, but still better, wearing the clean clothes the lady had given him. His boots and jacket were in one hand, and his ruined clothes were in the other. His new sunglasses were firmly on. The smell of cooking food led him to the little kitchen, were his savior was sitting with a cup of tea, a bowl of sweet-smelling oatmeal steaming across from her.

She was older, iron grey mixing with her frizzy dark blonde hair, with lines on her face making her look weathered. A stocky lady, not quite six feet, but a formidable presence. Though she looked more like a grandmother right now. "Feeling better?" he nodded. He cautiously sat down, and not being told off, he picked up the spoon and wolfed down the oatmeal, hunched protectively over the bowl in an old habit. Finished, he pushed the bowl away and looked intently across at the lady.

"I'm Patty," she said by way of introduction.

"T'ank you for de ride and meal," he replied, remembering his manners.

She leaned slightly forward, studying him. "You're Southern, aren't ya? Louisiana?" He nodded. "What you up here for?"

"Why you take me in?"

Patty grinned. "I usually take in kids down on their luck when they pass through. Feed em, clean em up. Help 'em get where they're going." She pointed to her refrigerator, covered in notices and newspaper clippings. "I've helped recover seven missing kids." She got up, and went to wash the dishes. "You can sleep in the spare bedroom. If you want, tomorrow I can get you a ride with someone. You going east or west?"

As far away from Cleveland as he could get. Somewhere he could get lost. Big cities. "East." She nodded. When Remy lay down in the clean little twin bed, he wondered how he had ever gotten out of his league. As he fell asleep, he only hoped that his current luck would hold.

Remy had grown up in the streets, by no means ignorant how the world worked. But he didn't know that the government had a way of being very, very persistent.

xxx

Next Chap: Remy gets to New York, tries to get in contact with his employer, and we learn who Remy was working for. X-Men will be entering soon- be patient!

Review...review...you know you want to...come on...


	3. Quitting Papers

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 3: Quitting Papers

Disclaimer: I own no Cajun. I do own Dr. Jennings and Patty.(Don't mess with her though, cause if you get on her bad side, well, don't say I didn't warn you...)

Summary: Remy calls his employer, and gets on his way to Pittsburgh.(I lied about New York- sorry)

Author's Notes: Sorry for delay, I had a camping thing, and I don't have a laptop. In this fic, Remy's 17, and his powers (other than kinetic conversion) are agility, special vision and 'charm'.

Chapter 1 takes place just after Mystique's capture, and Chap 3 is during the events of X3 (which covers all of what- 2, 3 days?) The paper is based on Magneto's press release.

xxx

Waking up, Remy was immediately aware of a throbbing ache throughout his whole body, and a splitting headache, worse than a hangover. Stretching, he indulged himself by staying in the warm bed until he was fully awake. Then he threw his feet over the side of the bed, but quickly retracted them. The floor was freezing. Looking around the small but comfortable room, he took note of the closed window blocking out sunlight, dresser, and night stand with a lamp and alarm, which read 11:37.

Slipping on his new socks, he opened the door and went to the bathroom to wash up. Looking in the mirror, he saw dark circles and hollow cheeks- a far cry from his usual stylish appearance. As he left the bathroom, he replaced his glasses and made his way to the kitchen. The layout of the house was simple: livingroom at the front door connected to a kitchen/diningroom, then the bathroom and a hall with the two bedrooms. Hard to get lost, he thought wryly. But despite the cheap linoleum floors and older fixtures, it was a house that was broken in and comfortable. Comfy chairs and couch, throw rugs, bookcases, and framed pictures all gave it a lived-in look.

He pulled a clean glass out of the drying rack and after drinking, he rinsed it and carefully put it back He didn't sense Patty, and listening, he heard faint snores in the other bedroom. His head was getting heavy, so he went to the couch and laid down.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep, so when he felt a presence and heard the sounds of metal on metal, he jerked up and looked around, instantly alert. Seeing Patty, in her robe and slippers, leaning down and getting out a pan out of a cupboard, he fell back into the couch, weak with relief. This was one of the times he wished he wasn't so jumpy. It had saved his life a few times, though.

"How you feeling, Remy? Up to some soup, or eggs?" At the mention of eggs, Remy's stomach gave a violent lurch. "Uh, soup'd be fine, _merci_."

"You have a beautiful accent there." Then down to business, she asked, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Two, t'ree days ago, not countin' de stuff from las' night."

Getting out a can of soup, she took the bull by the horns. "I'm not going get mad, but you had drugs?"

Remy opened his mouth to say no, but stopped. Who knew what was in his system? "I don' know. Prob'ly." That was as close to the truth as he could come, but Patty raised an eyebrow skeptically.

xxx

She let it drop. Probably a first timer. He didn't have dulled look of the druggies she usually helped. Well, she just hoped that he'd learn from this experience and not get hooked. When the soup was done, they had an early lunch/late breakfast. Again, he ate protectively over his food. She knew that was usually a sign of a hard life, not knowing when your next meal would be. Washing up the dishes, she told him, "You can stay here for a while if you want, otherwise I can get you to a bus, or a ride with one of my friends tonight."

The kid thought for a moment, then said, "If it ain't too much trouble, a ride east it'd be nice."

"Done deal. If you're up to it, you can walk around town, or stay here."

He visibly jolted, like he'd just remembered something important. "I'll go for de walk." Hastily, he put on his boots and long duster, and giving a slight wave, closed the door behind him.

xxx

As soon as he turned the corner, Remy headed downtown. He picked up a paper from a diner and scanned the headlines. "Magneto Resurfaces- Issues Threats to Humankind." Same old same old, he thought harshly, and turned his attention to looking for a pay phone. He had an urgent call to make.

ring

Come on, Remy thought, pick up the phone. He was fidgeting with the cord, and nerves were causing him to sweat.

ring

ring

Beep "You have reached the number called. I am unavailable at this time," a smooth, sultry, female voice intoned, business-like. "Leave a message."

"Miss Darkholme, I'm afraid dat I'm unable t' get you furt'er information." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as sawdust. "De last job crashed, an' Remy's gonna need t' lay low." He hung up quickly, as if those words had turned the phone into a bomb. Getting out of the booth, he ran his hand through his hair. Great. Just great.

Whatever happened now, he thought grimly, was not going to be pretty. His employer would not take this news nicely. He'd only met her once, and that experience had been rattling. At the time, he'd been down on his luck, and was desperate to get off the streets. He'd heard through the grapevine that someone was looking for a thief for hire. With the promise of a challenge, not to mention good money, he'd tracked them down. At a dark and nondescript bar, he'd been ushered into a booth, and come face to face with a blonde and beautiful woman.

_Flashback_

"Mr. LeBeau?"

"_Oui_. You be?"

"I'm Miss Darkholme, and I'm in need of a master thief. How good are you?"

"One of de best in N'Awlins." He casually pulled out a thick roll of bills that had been in her purse. She showed no surprise, just gave a smile. "How are you at breaking and entering? What I need stolen is...rather sensitive and delicate in nature. The benefit's would be...considerable." His pause clearly asked for a figure. "Fifty thousand, first job."

"I c'n get anywhere, me."

"Good." She stood up. "I'd like it if we could finish this somewhere more private." Remy's hackles had risen at that, sensing some undercurrent of danger. But the offer was too tantalizing to pass up. Warily, he followed her to the busy street. Looking around, he felt a jolt of panic. The blonde was gone. There was only a dark haired Asian woman, casually watching him. Immediately, his thief's instinct told him that the lady in front of him was the same from in the bar. He stared at her, waiting for her to make a move. She entered the alley, and two seconds later the blonde returned. Creepy.

"I want you to track me for twenty minutes, and not get caught. Starting now." The next 20 minutes were the most difficult that he'd had. Blending with the crowd, he'd followed with his 'charm', rather than his eyes. She alone had cold, singular determination. By eighteen minutes, Remy was really uneasy. There was no sign of the blond, just a older man leaning against the doorway of a restraunt. But his charm was telling him that she was right in front of him. He took a chance.

Going up to the man, Remy touched his shoulder lightly. "You're it, _mon ami_." At worst, he could pretend to be drunk. He stifled his surprise as the man's features melted and became the voluptuous blonde.

"Impressive. You're hired." She handed him a small business card. "I'll contact you regarding your assignment." He took the card, and turned to leave. "LeBeau," she called out, causing him to pause. "Don't think of trying to back out now." He nodded, and disappeared into the throb of the crowd.

From then on, he'd been called, express directions had been given, and he'd done what he did best. The information he gathered he'd almost never see, for it was just a matter of taking what he was told. But after a job, he'd begun to make his own copies. These he sent to a safebox in an out-of-state bank An insurance policy, if you will. He didn't trust his employer at all, but her thinly-veiled threat, along with the steady income, kept him at it. Seven times, he'd broken into the government base, and six times he'd made it out without a hitch.

_Present Day_

Walking back to Patty's, he tried to make sense of the situation. He had just escaped government custody, unknown drugs were in his system, and given his employer his notice.

Getting back to Patty's, he saw that it was four thirty. She was reading a book, and as he entered, she put it down and gave him a smile. "Glad to see you back." She led him into the kitchen, where a large U.S. atlas lay open. Sitting down, she motioned for him to do the same. "All right, Remy, where you looking to go? I know people going to Pennsylvania and New York." She traced the routes with her finger.

After pondering this for a second. "Philadelphia." It was not that far, and it was big enough for his tastes. She nodded.

"Jeff Murphy's goin that way. He'll be coming around nine. How you holdin' up?"

"M' head still hurts." Actually, it was worse than when he had woken up. He vision was throbbing with his pulse, and he was starting to feel hot and sweaty. All he wanted was to lay down and sleep forever, but he knew better than to stay in one spot for too long, no matter how tempting it was.

"Maybe takin' those glasses off would help." Remy's hand flew up protectively.

"_Non_."

She didn't press. "All right, all right. You hungry? I got some spaghetti on."

After eating, or, in one case, pretending to, they got ready to go. Patty gave Remy another pair of clothes, some basic toiletries, and a duffel bag. Getting to the station a bit early, Remy took advantage and bought some food, and a water bottle and some ibuprofen "found" their way into his bag.

Looking at the counter, he saw Patty talking to a trucker. Actually, Patty was talking. The trucker

was trying to get a word in, but Patty was in no-nonsense mode. Finally, he all but yelled, "I said I'll do it! Why wouldn't I do it again?" Remy smirked. Patty reminded him of his Tante: it was her way or no way. She came over as the trucker went for the coffee maker. She gave him a piece of paper with a written phone number.

"Call when you get where you're going, and if you ever in the neighborhood, drop by." she gave him a smile and a one-armed hug. " My strays are my kids."

Surprised, Remy returned the hug. "T'ank y' for all de help. Remy'll call." Then he went outside where the trucker was waiting.

xxx

Little slow, I know. But just wait- Next Chap: Jenning plots, Remy gets in a pickle, and hopefully (if the Blackbird doesn't break down,) the X men will enter stage left!

You know the drill: press the little blue button, then write something, then push submit. I have faith you all can do it...


	4. Old friends, New enemies

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 4: Old friends, New enemies

Disclaimer: If I owned Gambit, do you think I'd be sitting here!

Summary: Remy makes a visit, Jenning talks with a general, and Remy gets in a ...bad spot

Author's Notes: SORRY! I know I took a long time, but summer's here, and I've been stuck in cherry trees and raspberry bushes for a week. You're all going to have to be patient, because I'm going on vacation for a bit, but I promise to stick with this.

Again, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. (That's Latin for 'my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault. I'll probably be using it again.)

Reviews- Hawaiichick, lovestoread, enchantedlight, Rikou Kyohaku, Gryphen Void, (right now my spell check is going CRAZY), surrealgreen, lelann37, Chibified Youkai 101, and Rusty. Thank you!

xxx

The ride passed uneventfully, the trucker was gruff but good natured, and Remy drifted fitfully in and out of sleep, jerking awake at the slightest noise. Getting out at a way station the next morning, he thanked the trucker and headed into the city. Before he could go further, he had a few stops to make.

xxx

"I can't believe you allowed him to escape!" Major General Hutch bellowed for the seventh time in half an hour. Jennings sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She knew from past experience that he would blow off his steam, and only then begin to be helpful. Another 45 minutes and broken chair later, he gave a final glower, and sunk into the couch facing her. "I read your report, and you listed the files that had been comprised. That includes.."

"Information for Xenon, yes. While we know they were compromised, we don't know if the culprit is aware, or plans to act on, the data." She leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass of water. "I believe that the best course of action is to find the mutant and impound him again."

"Why not just find him and kill him?" Asked Hutch irritably. "Dead men tell no tales, as they say."

"Because it won't solve the problem," Jennings explained, as if talking to a smallchild . "We can't kill him unless we know he didn't pass any of the information on, or doesn't have any copies. There can be no loose ends." She swirled her glass of water around, watching the spiraling motion. " We cannot begin until our problem is... solved."

xxx

Remy got a taxi to the east district, and walked to a rather scruffy three-story building. At the door, he entered a nine-digit code on the hidden key pad, and was met by a big, dirty, dangerous looking man. He squinted through his black hair. "That you, Rems?"

"_Oui_, it be m', Jase. Remy's come t' see ol' George. Now let m' in."

The inside of the building was at odds with the exterior. It was darker, but clean and well furnished. This was the place where the less law-abiding citizens came to get necessary papers, Remy went up the stairs. The second floor was totally dark, save for one room, from which the light streamed from a slightly open door into the hallway. Approaching it, Remy opened the door and scanned the room and it's occupant.

Inside there was mounds of papers, several computers, a handful of expensive cameras, and a few different printers. Buried underneath all that was a desk, some chairs, and files. In the middle off it all was a small old man, whose dark grey and silver streaked hair was sticking out crazily at all angles. His glasses were perched precariously on his nose as he worked intently at one of the computers his thin mustache twitching. Remy cleared his throat, and the man whirled around, his hand going for an unseen weapon. Seeing his visitor leaning against the door frame, he broke into a large grin.

"Remy LaBeau! My God, it's been, what, over a year!"

"Remy sees y' still jumpy. Y' look good,_ mon ami_."

George settled back in his chair, traces of good humor still in his eyes. "Well, what brings you to old Philly? And why are you stopping here?"

Remy found an unburied chair and sat down. " Ran int' a bit o' trouble, dat's all. I need t' get some of y'r best."

George's eyes took on a new glow. "Ah, I see. What do you need?" His demeanor was now eager.

"De usual. Driver's license, I.D.'s, credit cards..."

"Say no more. It's time to create!"

George took pride in his job; considered forgery an art, and himself a master artist. Which he truly was- no one had yet traced any of his work. Remy had first met him when his father had taken him and Henri on a world-wide"business" tour, to familiarize them with global resources.

In the next 45 minutes, George had two driver's licences, four I.D.s, and two credit cards, connected to a couple of Remy's accounts. "And a complimentary wallet!" George added happily, giving Remy a nice leather one.

"_Merci, mon ami_. What Remy owe y'?"

George waved dismissively. "Five hundred fifty, but take your time. I'm in no rush. And besides," he added, " I can count on your credit."

"Again, _merci_. Did m' pere leave m' box 'ere?"

"Yes, he did. It's downstairs." Remy followed the old man, who led him into a slightly dusty room, which was lined with boxes of various sizes. "'Murray'... 'Muxito'...ah, here we are, 'LaBeau'." He pulled a medium sized box out and handed it to Remy. He opened it, and stared at the contents.

Inside, there was various pictures, a few decks of playing cards, some documents, and what he was looking for: his bo staff. Quickly he put it in his duster's pocket, and grabbed a picture of his family and slipped it in his wallet. Then, with a nod, to George, he slipped out into the night.

xxx

As the sun went down, Remy was walking along a railroad line, on the fringes of the industrial area. In his experience, it was usually the best place to find a place to stay. There were plenty of abandoned warehouses to choose from.

Suddenly, he stopped and grimaced in pain. Quickly opening his duffel bag, which was over his shoulder, he pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen. He clumsily tried to open it, but another wave of pain rolled over him.

Blam!

He stared stupefied at his empty hand, immensely frustrated.. _Merde! Just had t' go an' blow up m' meds!_ Now, it was a question on where to get some more. He'd have to go back into the city. But he was so tired, and felt like burning needles were being driven into every muscle. Remy's breathing was becoming heavy. No chance of traveling like this.

Then Remy heard the last thing he wanted to hear; that sound he'd heard many times before: footsteps of a person, no, persons, attempting to be stealthy. Normally, he wouldn't have been bothered- a leap, or hiding in the shadows and he'd have been out of harm's way. But the current situation didn't allow for that. All Remy could do was pull his bo staff and get his back against the wall before they came at him.

They were what you expect of a gang of low criminals: muscle shirts, black leather, studded jewelry, and long (illegal) switchblades. "Now, youse gonna give us no trouble. Youse drop da bag." Remy wanted to roll his eyes. Like hell he'd give them no trouble. And end up dead anyways? _No t'ank y'_. He'd seen too many dead bodies that had "given no trouble."

"Sorry, _hommes_, but m' only set o' underwear's in dere." He raised his bo into a defensive stance as they circled him. Five of them. _Merde_. His eyes widened as he felt their intent. That wasn't only greed. They didn't just want his bag- _Merde_.

One came at Remy, from the side, and he parried it, twisting his body to keep the bo between him and the rest. He used a slight opening to smash down on a shoulder, rendering one of them incapacitated, howling and cradling a (hopefully) broken shoulder and collarbone. That left four more to deal with.

They were more cautious now, and more angry. They hovered just outside of his reach, waiting for an opening. Remy, usually so nimble, slipped on a slide of muck. As one, they went for him, like hounds to a deer. Twisting his body away rapidly, he dodged three of the knives. Unable to dodge the other, he turned into it, protecting his chest.

The blade bit deeply into his right shoulder. Grimacing, he stumbled back, trying to get some space between. But they pressed toward him, more confidant. He passed his bo from right to left, and whirled it about, hoping desperately to push them back. Sensing their prey's fatigue, they stood their ground, and closed in.

Remy's vision was swimming. His whole body was screaming in pain, and he was almost dead on his feet. He had no doubt that each passing moment the odds were more and more in their favor. He had to take them out, and fast. Taking a chance, he dove down, fingers scrabbling for gravel. He wished he'd grabbed the cards from his box. If he could get them with a good charge...

Immediately they were on him and threw him to the ground, his bo staff immobilized under him. One wound his fingers into Remy's hair and pulled, another wrenched his wounded arm down. He yelled in pain, but kept his hand closed over the precious gravel. His legs were immobilized, and the other pinned his chest. Panic was setting in now. The gravel in his hand was glowing. The one one his chest was bringing out his knife. _Deu..._

With an almighty heave Remy wrenched his whole body, shaking off the thugs on his legs and arms. Simultaneously kicking the one off his chest and pulling his bo staff from under himself, he nailed the head of the one holding his hair. Making a clumsy roll away, he sent the charged gravel flying, the pink halo of each illuminating the area for a moment. Then they hit their targets.

The sounds of the explosions and screams of the thugs faded as Remy ran, heading for the darkest, safest spot he saw: an old warehouse, whose doors were gone. Meaning no one was inside that was trying to hide anything important. As he entered, the adrenaline rush was gone, and all the agony his body was feeling was muted by exhaustion. Along the wall, in the shadow, he collapsed, past the point of caring. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

xxx

Notice the Philly accent? Stroke of genius ;) Sorry for no X-Men, their on their way, first thing, I promise!

When you review (which you WILL, right?),you can "Add story to Story Alert." that way you'll know when I update (which may be less frequent than wished.)** Thank you and review!**


	5. Uncontrolled Situations

Illegal Seizure

Author's Notes: These go first this time. I expect every single reader to review- I love you all so much, I'm typing this less than 10 hours before we're supposed to leave for a month, shirking my packing- I haven't eve STARTED-, giving up sleep, for **YOU**. So now you have a MORAL OBLAGATION!

Chapter 5: Uncontrolled Situations

Disclaimer: See any previous chapter

Summary: A rescue, and attempted escape

Reviews- Thank you to Hawaiichick, lovestoread, enchantedlight, AliAle, and Indapendant Fire for reviewing!

xxx

Bobby's eyes glazed over as he watched the various monitors, and his fingers tapped a tuneless rhythm. His mind wandered to the whirlwind events of the past week. The cure, Magneto, Xavier, Cyclops, and Jean dying, and Rogue- his untouchable Rogue- was gone, both literally and figuratively. She was not a mutant anymore, and while Storm had made it clear she was still welcome at the mansion, Marie had opted for going to a college close by.

And his powers had changed. Hank had called it, what? Secondary mutation? Now he could _become_ ice. It was really weird. Hank, after accepting the position UN ambassador, had made it clear that he would be splitting his time between the mansion and his job. The first thing he'd done was reconfigure Cerebro. Without the professor's power and control, no telepath could operate it efficiently. So he'd ingeniously remade Cerebro, so that it was not reliant on telepathy to show mutant activity.

All the senior students and teachers took turns watching the security monitors, the "secure" government channels, and Cerebro. A whole wall of screens, readouts, and nothing unusual on any. Bobby was bored. He checked his watch. Ten minutes. He could hold on that long. The long, continuous beep came from Cerebro. Quickly losing his boredom, Bobby quickly read the readouts and found the location. "11:52 pm. Large manifestation of mutant power." On the large screen, a map appeared, pinpointing an area in Philadelphia. Hmmm.

Bobby pressed the intercom to the on duty teacher. "Logan, We got a powerful active mutant in Philly." "I'm comin'." Minutes later, Logan appeared behind his chair. His eyes scanned the readouts, and accessed the power classification. "Near a level 4," he remarked. "I'll get 'Ro." He left as quietly as he came.

Logan was taking Jean's second and final death better than Scott had taken her first. Bobby admired that, considering he'd been the one to finish her. Peter came in to relieve Bobby, and he went upstairs. In the hall, there was a collection of teachers, most in pajamas. Ororo, Logan, Hank, and Kurt, just arrived from Europe. He'd been gone during the last two weeks, and felt some guilt about not being there when they'd needed him. Again, it stuck Bobby how much they'd lost. Their leader, and two of the most advanced X-Men. He lingered, picking up parts of their conversation.

"Is it worth it?" "I think we should..." "How powerful..." "A cautious approach..."

"Hold it!" Ororo restored order. "Hank, Logan, I want you to deal with this. Suit up, take the _Blackbird_, and find out what's going on. Go in prepared: It's a relatively powerful mutant, and the area has a criminal element." Hank and Logan both nodded, and went toward the lift.

xxx

"Are you sure this is the place?" Wolverine asked as they got off the _Blackbird_. It was dark, and the huge warehouses loomed around them ominously. While it was early fall, the night was windy and chilly, and their breathing was accentuated by puffs of white vapor. The sounds of machinery, and the smelly steam from the working factories were distant. "This is the closest spot I could land. We need to go about 200 yards that way," Beast explained.

"He or she could be long gone," Beast remarked, after they'd looked around. Wolverine didn't reply. He was trying to use his other senses, but the smog and wind was making it difficult. He walked in ever-widening circles, his eyes, nose and ears searching... "Bingo," he said softly. He signaled for Beast to come. Kneeling, he ran his gloved fingers through a puddle, and they came off red. "Blood." He rubbed it, noting it's color and thickness. "Little over half an hour ago." A tracker's eyes scanned the area. There were specks of blood and clothing on the ground and walls, and marks of feet and bodies in the dirt. "There was a fight here."

"Wolverine, look." Beast's sharp vision found two switchblades, thrown carelessly.

"There was a fight. I'd say four of five guys against one." He didn't mention some of the signs. "Smells like there was a fire."

"That could be the sign of our intended objective. Can you tell which way they all went?"

"The ones with the knives went this way, and the one with the large wound," he pointed to the clear blood trail, "went this way."

Beast grabbed Wolverine's arm. "It is safe to assume that the person in there is seriously injured. It would be advisable if I went first, since my eyes are more equipped for seeing in the dark. I'll stay out of sight, since my appearance causes some distress. Also, unless there's a problem, _don't_ extend your claws." Wolverine nodded, and Beast leaped to a high window and disappeared. A soft, urgent summon brought him in. In a corner, Beast knelt over a crumpled body. Only the uneven rise and fall of breathing indicated life.

"Wolverine, it seems we have a very injured young man on our hands. He's suffering from blood loss and exposure. I believe he's going into shock. I need to go to the jet to get some first aid supplies. Keep him warm and stop the bleeding on his shoulder. I'll be back soon." And he was gone, bounding off.

Quickly Wolverine crouched down and rolled him over. He found the wound and applied pressure, and brought the limp body up to his chest. Then he looked at the young man. A kid, really. His shoulder-length hair was dirty, and his skin, underneath the mud, was almost blue. Keeping one hand firmly on the injured shoulder, Wolverine used his other hand to try to restore blood flow by rubbing the kid's arms and face. There was no response, but the bluish tinge faded a bit.

Soon Beast was back, with two containers. He taped a gauze pad tightly onto the wound. "Place him down and help me," he ordered Wolverine. Together they opened up a strange blanket thing from the second box.. "It's a insulated body blanket," Beast explained, motioning for Wolverine to pick up the kid. He laid him in it, and Beast closed it up. "I'll get him back to the jet. You're going to need to fly." As Beast left, Wolverine saw a long metal staff. Guessing it was the kid's, he picked it up, and found it collapsed. He brought it along.

They made it back, and Wolverine got them airborne. Switching to autopilot, he went towards the back to see how Beast was doing. He had the kid belted onto the gurney, hooked up to oxygen, and heat pads. He had cut away the clothing from the shoulder. The wound was a clean but very deep cut. Beast was removing grit and other debris from it. "I can't risk medication until I have a blood work. But he'll need blood, that's for sure. Watch him- I need to call Storm and have her ready the lab."

xxx

As they docked, Ororo had the lab set and ready to receive their patient. They got him to the bed, and as Hank attached monitors and hooked up an oxygen tube, Storm got out necessary paraphernalia. Logan changed and stood back, seeing if he'd be needed. Taking a blood sample, and inserting it in the diagnostic computer, Hank gave a low whistle, which the other two came over to see what had invoked such a reaction. "This young man has in his system the biggest cocktail of drugs I've seen," Hank commented. "Let's see..." he scanned the list of recognized drugs. "All seem to be depressants. Except the pain killers."

"So the kid fried himself out on drugs?" Logan asked.

"No, it seems that the dosages are too close to be self-administered. Amazing his liver hasn't failed." Going back to his patient, he began taking off the kid's coat. "Logan, I'm going to remove his outer garments, and I'd like you to see if you can find any identification in them. Storm, I'm going to have to stitch up and bandage this wound. I don't think you need to stay up. We've got a handle on the situation." She nodded, and left.

After cleaning and settling his patient in a clean blanket and warming pads, Hank finished cleaning the cut properly and stopped the bleeding. It had partially severed the Cephalic vein, and it took some bio-organic glue to staunch the flow. Then, he carefully stitched the muscle and skin closed, and put a clean dressing over the stitches. Getting an IV of A+ blood, he then he set to detoxifying the man's blood. Before Hank left, he put restraints on the chest, left arm, and torso of his patient.

xxx

Logan searched the ratty duster, and found a piece of paper with a phone number and name- _182-8796, Patty_. A relative? Girlfriend? He continued looking, and the inner coat pocket yielded a fat, new leather wallet. Opening it up, he found a picture of an older man next to a big black woman. Kneeling in front of them were a man in his mid-thirties and a teenager. All of them were smiling, and the teen was cheekily waving at the camera. Looking close, Logan noticed that the eyes of the boy were black on red. It almost looked like red eye, but the picture was perfect in all other aspects. The lighting was good, the lines sharp.

Looking through the different cards, he got a driver's licence and I.D. for a 'Damian Black'(1) and another set to a 'Remy LaBeau'. The pictures were almost identical, but with slight differences, like age and address.

He showed Hank the picture, the cards and the phone number. "Hmm, did you find a name?"

"Found two, take yer pick. We got a Remy and a Damian."

"Hmm. I'm going to call this Patty, and perhaps she can shed some light on the situation." Just then, the monitors gave a beep. Hank raced over and looked at the readout. "I just started his blood detoxification, but his core temperature is normal again. Tell me if he wakes up when I'm gone." And Hank left.

Logan leaned against the wall, watching. The kid's color was better, and his breathing was stronger. Still unconscious, he seemed to be coming round. His eyelids were fluttering, and his face spasming. Logan went over next to him, but was wary. Every time someone was on this bed, they always ending up getting the jump on people. The kid was getting increasingly agitated; now his fingers and shoulders were starting to jerk.

Logan was immediately on guard. He could smell the kid was becoming awake, and didn't take his eyes off him. Hank returned.

"It seems this Patty is a close friend to Remy, which I'm guessing is his real name." The kid's eyelids twitched at the sound of his name. Logan tensed, and Hank continued on. "She couldn't offer any suggestions of what happened to him, though."

xxx

Remy's brain slowly floated back to reality. The last thing he'd remembered was escaping and collapsing in the dark. Now, he couldn't move, and his shirt and jacket were missing. The panic he left consciousness returned tenfold. Disorientated, he jolted awake, but the harsh light burned his eyes, making them water and forcing him to shut them. Feeling restraints, he instinctively struggled furiously against the pressure on his chest and torso. He felt...things on his chest and in his nose, and ripped them off. Then he felt a set of large hands on his chest, pushing him back.

He opened his eyes, ignoring the pain of the light. And stared into a animal's face. A huge, blue animal. Wearing glasses.

Giving a yell of panic, Remy propelled himself back, away from the creature, heart about pounding out of his chest. He slipped out of the restraints like water, rolled away, and fell into another person, who grabbed around his arm and chest. As hard as he struggled , he could not break the hold. His head started throbbing. The huge beast came toward him.

xxx

Hank went toward them, but Logan stopped him. "Kid's freaked." He could smell the fear and confusion on him, thick and stifling. Logan could feel the kid's heart beating against his arm. He tried to struggle out of Logan's hold, but Logan tightened his grip. "Kid, calm down!" The kid turned toward him, and Logan was startled. His eyes were scarlet on midnight black, wide in fear, and darting everywhere.

Hank approached them again, slowly, and tried to assure the boy of his safety."We found you with seriously injured, and brought you here for medical attention."At that, the kid started to fight in earnest. He used his elbow to smash Logan's face, and tried to make a break for it.

But Beast's agility was more than a match for the kid. In a second, he was pinned to the floor in a style Logan had never seen. It was enough to keep him down, but it wasn't causing any pain. "Listen, Remy," Hank said, his voice calm and nonthreatening. (Which Logan found very impressive, considering that Hank's 300 some pounds were above the kid's some150.) "We won't hurt you. We're trying to help. You were suffering from blood loss and cold, and we brought you here. This is not a hospital. This is a place for mutants. You're safe here." Just then, Storm came in. She surveyed Logan's bloody but healed nose, and Hank pinning the kid down.

"What is going on?"

Hank stood up, still keeping a grip on his gasping, reluctant patient. "Our young friend here is resisting treatment."

"Damn right! Who de hell are y' people? Lemme go!"

"Ah, the mute speaks."

"Shut up, Hank." Logan went over to Storm. "What you want done with him?" She ignored him, and addressed the kid.

"What's your name?"

"Who are y'?"

"We're the X-Men. I'm Ororo, this is Hank and Logan. You're Remy, right?"

"_Oui_."

"Remy, we're trying to help you here. Tomorrow, if you want to go, you can. But right now you're too sick to leave. Please stay." She smiled at him. "I promise that nothing bad 'll happen."

Remy, still looking jittery, nodded. He was trembling from his exertion, and swayed slightly. "Good. Now if you could lie down again, we'll get you situated." Her and Hank replaced the monitors, but when Hank went to put in the blood filter, Remy pulled his arm away and looked warily at the needle and filtration unit.

"What's dat?"

"This is a detoxifying machine. It removes the drugs from your bloodstream."

Hank slipped it into the vein on his left arm, and taped it in place. Then Storm motioned for Logan to come to the hall with her.

"What happened?"

"He freaked when he woke up. Hank's looks startled him even more, and when he mentioned 'medical treatment', the kid started going berserk. He's fast."

"Tell Hank as soon as Remy's settled I want to talk to him."

xxx

As Hank replaced the oxygen tube, Remy was shaking. From nerves or the scuffle, he didn't know. He felt no hostility from the blue Beast or the white-haired lady, and only a bit from the short scary guy. His life didn't seem to be in danger here, at least not now. He felt himself unwillingly slipping into oblivion again.

xxx

Hank joined them in the hall again. "I gave him a anesthesia in his oxygen which will keep him quiet til morning."

"It's three thirty a.m. It is morning," Ororo corrected. "We're lucky it's a Saturday- no lessons. Someone will need to stay with him, though. Maybe Kurt..."

"I'll do it," Hank interrupted. "I need to further analyze the drugs, and run a more complete diagnostic. I'll see you all in the morning."

"It is morning," Ororo reminded him, her face betraying a suppressed smile.

"You know what I mean," Hank replied. "See you later. Don't come down here with out coffee!" he called as the lift door closed.

xxx

(1) Damian Black is Gambit's alias in "If you can't beat them", by Fissie. (An excellent fic, I highly recommend it.) I didn't ask to use it. (Deep and humble apologies.) Also, Tell me if you see any typos- this was hastily posted.

**Review! **(For reason, re-read a/n.)


	6. Introductions

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 6: Introductions

Disclaimer: You all know by now they're not mine

Summary: Remy gets to know some of the residents, and Jennings and Hutch butt heads.

Reviews- at the end of the chapter

Author's Notes: Once again, so sorry for the delay. Thank you all for being so patient. (Well, relatively.) Got home on Wednesday after driving all night, and then our pear tree has a bumper crop. Two days of canning, and we're only a third done. Ugh.

Thank you, a proud geekfreak, for pointing out a typo. I wanted Remy head for Philly, but a lapse in the cerebral department made me write Pittsburgh. So for all purposes, it's Philadelphia.

xxx

Remy woke up to the sound of a keyboard clicking at machine gun rate. Turning his head, he looked over and saw the blue furry man seated at a large screen computer. Turning back, Remy stared at the white metal ceiling He felt a lot better now, but drained of all energy. The blue man came over and smiled, and Remy could tell he was in a pleasant mood.

He talked as he checked the readouts. "It seems you've decided to join us. You were asleep for eight hours. How do you feel now?"

Remy itched his nose, careful for the oxygen tube. It was starting to bug him. "I be feelin' a lot better den las' night." His voice was rough and hoarse.

"It would be hard for you to feel worse. Aside from your knife wound, you were on the verge of hypothermia and all the drugs in your system didn't help either." He said this last part casually, but Remy knew that he was curious and wanted an explanation. Well, he was not going to oblige.

"Guess so," was his only comment.

"I'm Hank McCoy, by the way." He pulled the bandage back and studied the stitches. "Former Secretary for the DMA, current Ambassador to the U.N.."

"An' what y' be doin' here, _homme_?"

"You heard of the X-Men?"

"_Oui_."

"I was one of Xavier's first students. With the whole "Cure" fiasco, I came back to the fold. Now I'm here part time." His face clouded, then he shook it off. Going to his desk, he pushed a button and spoke low into it. "All teachers, come to the medlab at your earliest convenience. Thank you." Seeing Remy's look, Hank explained, "I want to introduce you to the faculty."

Remy's nose was driving him nuts. "Hey, Dr McCoy, can y' do somet'in' fo' dis t'ing?"

"Just call me Hank. And yes, as long as you're lying quiet, I can take it off." As he detached it, the hostile man from before came in. He was in a leather uniform, and covered in sweat.

"What ya want, Hank?"

"I want Remy to meet the teachers, and last night doesn't count," Hank added, cutting Logan off. In the next three minutes, they were joined by the white-haired woman, and suddenly in the hall there was the sound of a muted explosion, and a demon walked in.

He was a deep indigo, with yellow eyes, pointed ears and teeth, and a tail. Remy's initial reaction was to recoil, but he could feel the kindness and gentleness the man possessed.

"Now that we're all here, let's get started. As I said, I'm Hank McCoy, called Beast." The woman stepped up and continued. "I'm Ororo Munroe, and my codename's Storm. That's Logan, and he's Wolverine."

"And I'm Kurt Wagner, and I'm known as Nightcrawler. Pleased to meet you." Remy nodded, looking at them all. Here were mutants, like himself, and powerful. He remembered reading when they'd fought Magneto and saved the U.N. summit. An unsanctioned peacekeeping force, they were hated and feared as much as the terrorists they fought.

"M' name's Remy." He smiled. "But I'm a Gambit."

"Well Remy, you're welcome here as long as you like. With the doctor's permission, I can get a student to show you around."

"Only for an hour, and you'll use this." Hank gestured toward a wheelchair. Remy grimaced, but said nothing as he put on a zippered sweatshirt, careful for his shoulder. A sandy-haired teen came down, gave Remy a smile and stuck out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Bobby Drake."

xxx

As the two left, after warnings from Hank, the teachers got to business. "I'm frankly worried about our newcomer," Hank stated. They were seated around a large screen. It was on, and Hank stood in front of it, pacing slightly. "In his blood stream were no less than eight different depressants and sedatives, all unobtainable on open market." He clicked a button and the screen showed a listing. "They were given in large doses for roughly 48 hours, and I am almost positive they were not self-administered. Not only were the dosages too close, but the various needle entries indicate resistance."

"What do you think happened?" asked Ororo.

Hank removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea about the young man's lifestyle, his occupation or his personality. But I'm guessing he ran afoul with someone or some group, and not a knitting circle."

"So now we keep the kid, right?" Logan asked. Everyone looked at him. It was unusual, and even more so after Jean's death, that he display interest in anything but X-Men missions and his duties around the mansion. Logan immediately bristled under their gazes. "Or are we gonna kick him out?"

Ororo smoothed her skirt and considered her next words."He stays here, at least til he's well. If we can find out what happened, fine. But this school's not about the past. It's about the future. And if we can offer Remy a better one, then that's what we'll do."

xxx

"So, what's your name?" Bobby inquired as he pushed Remy into the hall. The walls were made of some brightly polished metal plates, uniform in size and color.

"Remy. So, where we be?"

"We're in the sub-level, open to the X-Men and senior students only. Where you from?"

"N'Awlins," Remy replied, laying his accent on thick. In reality, he was studying every door, nook, and hole. While he may be in no shape to go anywhere at the present, one of the first lessons he'd learned was : Pay attention to your surroundings. It could save your life.

Getting out of elevator, Remy swore slightly under his breath in surprise. The top level was a direct contrast to the spartan, futuristic basement. The house was the height of the late Victorian, dark wood paneling and floors, thick carpets and curtains, and the furniture looked mostly antique. Those that were not were chosen so as to tastefully blend.

"Nice, huh?" Bobby said, amused at his companion's expression. "With me, it was the opposite; I saw the mansion first, then the sub-level."

"How big is dis place, _homme_?" Remy asked, noting the paintings and decorations. Whoever owned this place had a lot of money to spend.

"It's five levels, and over fifty rooms." The first part of the tour was pretty quiet, with Bobby explaining each room and Remy asking occasional questions. Then they rounded a corner and were nearly run over.

It was very sudden, in Remy's mind: The stampede nearly killed them, and then was gone, the noise fading down the hall.

"NO RUNNING!" Bobby bellowed after. "New kids," he said apologetically. "This place is a school for mutants, and we're always getting new students." Now they were in the common areas, and were attracting attention. Girls giggled behind their hands as they passed, and everyone seemed to be rubbernecking. This attention was making Remy uncomfortable.

He let disinterest blanket him, and he could tell it was working- kids' gazes were sweeping over them.

"Hi Bobby!" A petite girl with brown hair ran up to them, her round face smiling.

"Hey Kitty. This is Remy." She smiled at him and held out her hand. Remy put on one of his dazzling smiles and kissed it, rather than shaking.

"_Excuse moi_ if I don' get up."

She blushed, and stammered something incoherent. Then, giggling, she beat a hasty retreat- through a wall.

"Do you always do that?" Bobby sounded irritated.

"I was raised in de South, an' I was taught m' manners. I don' do dat to fine gen'lemen like y'self," he added, and Bobby laughed at that.

"Let's finish the tour."

xxx

General Hutch came into Dr Jenning's office, smoke wreathing him in a cloudy shroud.

"Well?" he demanded, cutting any pleasantries. "Have you found him?"

Jennings looked up at him through her lightly tinted glasses, papers in random stacks on her desk.

"I believe we're closer to finding our culprit, General. I've had the surrounding cities checked, and I'm scanning the police database, as well as the emergency scanners. However," she indicated the papers directly in front of her, "I think our best chance is in this."

"What is it?"

"Put out that disgusting thing and I'll tell you," she snapped, and waited until he'd put out his cigar. "Remember Raven Darkholme?" When he nodded, she continued. "When she turned on Magneto, she gave us everything."

She handed him a paper, and he read it, his eyebrows raising higher and higher. "Is this true?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

"All of it. We know now that the information never got through to her. We find her informer and then we can continue..."

"No! I'm sick of waiting. You have one week, no less, to find that mutie and eliminate him. Meanwhile, I'll be getting Xenon ready. One week," he repeated, and left.

xxx

"So, what did you do before you came here, Remy?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, dis an' dat," Remy responded evasively. They were outside, and it was warm and sunny, for fall. "Hold up, I wan' t' get out an' walk."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Hank said..."

"I know what Hank said, but dere be no law against stretchen' y' legs." Remy stood up and they walked at a leisurely pace. The gardens still had late blooming flowers, and the trees were decked in gold and scarlet. It was very peaceful. Remy felt the need to release some pent-up power.

"Where is dis place?" he asked, breaking the silence instead. The more he knew, the better.

"Westchester, New York. It used to be an ancestral home, but in the last twenty years it was renovated." They walked toward three marble monuments, one which had an eternal flame. All had flowers. A cloud passed over Bobby's face as they approached. They paused in front of them, and Remy read the names: Scott Summers, Jean Grey, and Charles Xavier.

"Y' knew dem?" Remy asked, in a quiet tone. He knew death- escaped it, fought it, laughed in it's face, and seen others succumb to it. He was familiar with it, but he respected it as well.

"Yeah. They haven't been gone for more than a week." He pointed to the larger one, which had the flame. "He started all this. The school, the X-Men. He gave a lot of people hope and a second chance." Bobby turned abruptly. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the mansion."

xxx

review reponses- Hawaiichick- you're a super reveiwer! Thank you so much! Not too much student interaction in this chap, but the next one will have more.

lelann- we all know Remy- he plays them cards close.

knglenn- nope, sorry, no romy. I'm not anti-romy, but I think there's enough out there, and I'd like to give Remy more character development then- "... he was smitten by her angelic looks, reformed for her, and their undying love was sorely tested.". Having Remy in movieverse sort of opens up new avenues, and I didn't want romance to bungle it up.

enchantedlight- thanks! This update came asap.

nixxy311- glad you enjoyed!

Anaii- Don't we all love a good Remy story? Glad you think this is one of them!

AliAle- Happy that you like the last chapter. This one has less action. I had a great time, and I would have tried to post there, but the computer at my relative's didn't have internet access!

rae.keys- Don't worry, I'm not stopping! And no, I don't think I'll have the Ororo Remy relationship. However, she'll be able to talk to him better than most.

surreal green- I like the empathic Remy too. It fits so well with his character and natural charm.

Yersi Fanel- glad you like!

a proud geekfreak- thanks for pointing out the mess up- very much appreciated. And yes, my month's up! No need to be impatient:)

Ryann628- Yay! A new reviewer! I'm very flattered you think this fic's good.

xxx

Review! And what do you all think of Bobby and Remy being friends? I've read some fics where they're at each other's throats, but that seems to be partly Rogue- induced. Bobby from the movie seems like a nice guy, and Remy's going to need someone to stick with him with what's coming up. (This will NOT be a slash fic. I can't abide by them.)


	7. Ominous Happenings

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 7: Ominous Happenings

Summary: People in the mansion get to know Remy, Jennings finds what she's looking for, and Hank makes a decision.

Reviews- at the end of the chapter

Author's Notes: I'm doing a major revision- correcting and reposting chapters with discrepancies, like Logan being 'short' and the 'Pittsburgh/Philadelphia' mix-up. Thank you for pointing these things out, and tell me if you see any more.

Also, I'm not really going to go into depth about the X3 connection, (It was my least favorite out of the three) and my fic will have more X2 connections, and the characters more X2 personalities. I just watched X2, and I got a MAJOR plot clarification! I'll be posting again real soon!

xxx

They'd been walking for a while, Bobby telling Remy about the mansion, about recent events. Remy showed particular interest in the attack on the mansion. The escape intrigued him, but Bobby wasn't about to disclose that, at least not until they were sure about Remy.

The wheelchair was left in the gardens, and Remy kept Bobby's attention fully occupied. He had an intense dislike for wheelchairs, or any kind of confinement, and had no intention of getting back in one. Fifteen minutes and two flights of stairs later, however, his head was swimming. Bobby asked him periodically if he was doing okay, but he always brushed it off with an affirmative and continued on. Finally, Bobby wasn't buying it.

"Sit down and I'll go get..."

"_Non_, _non_, Remy's fine." He was immediately proved wrong, however, when he blacked out and fell to the floor. Bobby's reflexes saved him from a busted nose.

"Sure you're fine," muttered Bobby, pulling the now limp Remy up and going to the nearest intercom. "Med-lab, I need Dr. McCoy. On the second floor, east wing."

Remy came to with the face of a concerned and exasperated Hank right in front of him. "Exerting oneself to the point of collapse is neither wise nor practical. Next time, Mr. LaBeau, please refrain from it." He turned to Bobby and gave him a box. "This contains all of Remy's possessions. Please move it to his room. While I'm gone, make sure he stays rested, even if you have to tie him down." Remy was sure he was joking. Maybe. He hoped.

xxx

"Why is it that there is no such thing as a good patient in this place?" Hank irritably asked the house in general as he checked his tie in a hall mirror. He'd only been at it for a few days, but trying to juggle being the doctor and engineer of the school and the ambassador was rough. He had a gut feeling that while both positions were important to him, he would end up choosing one over the other. But he put that thought to the back of his mind, picked up his briefcase and went to Ororo's office.

"Leaving already?" she asked, in a worried tone. She felt reluctant to have anyone go off by themselves, and not surprising, given the last couple week's events."But your classes..."

"I've given Kurt my lesson plans, he'll assign work for as long as I'm gone."

"The lab..."

"...Can survive with out me for a little while."

"Remy..."

Here Hank paused. The young man was a puzzle. Hank had taken extensive tests, monitored carefully, and drawn sketchy conclusions, which he had kept to himself, in less than twelve hours. There were many unknowns: too many, in Hank's mind. He had accepted a responsibility, and was not about to disappoint, but it would be equally irresponsible to leave this matter unattended.

"I'd like to talk to Logan about that before I leave."

xxx

Jennings held her head in her hands and gritted her teeth as once again ran into a brick wall. Figuratively, of course, but just as painful as the real thing. For hours on end she'd been following a lead, and now it proved a dead end.

She leaned back in her chair and collected herself. There had to be a way to find this mutant. Something was itching at the back of her mind, something important... She sat, deep in thought, for some time. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. Of course.

Getting up, she went down the hall to a security-monitored door. Pressing her palm to a scanner, she entered the small room. Taking a single disc from a huge file, she left quickly, the anticipation of finding her goal almost unbearable.

In her office, Jennings placed the disc in. After one second, in which she feared that the disc might be incomplete. But no, it opened up, displaying all the files before her.

Scanning the files, she looked carefully. 'Archive', 'Photo', 'Speadsheets'... 'M-Files'. Opening it, she went to 'Profiles', the initiated 'Search'. She typed in the physical traits, then hit 'enter'.

In front of her was, statistics, and general information. She smiled at the set of photos, and read the name at the to of the page.

"Remy LaBeau."

xxx

Logan sat in the kitchen, eating a late lunch. He heard Remy and Bobby coming down from the boy's dormitories. Their voices were easy to pick up once they got onto the ground floor.

"What do you think?"

"It be nice, _homme_."

They entered, and Logan looked at them. Bobby had grown up a bit since the time he'd frozen Logan's hand. While he still had his boyish looks, his frame had filled out. The other kid, Remy, was different. His body looked too lanky, his skin sallow, a lean frame and even leaner muscles. Logan was reminded of a street dog: scrawny, tough as nails, and wary. When Bobby handed him a bowl of soup (canned, Bobby's specialty,) Remy practically inhaled it.

Looking almost mournfully at the bottom of his bowl, Remy asked casually, "Can I get somet'in' more?" Logan could see he was trying to be offhand, but Logan could smell the intensity of his hunger. This kid wasn't fooling him.

A "help yourself"from Bobby and Remy went to the fridge. He got out some leftover pizza, a can of soda, and three pieces of bread that he popped into the toaster. Logan watched as he ravenously ate, and noted that when Bobby got up and passed Remy for a drink of water, that Remy imperceptibly pulled his food closer. Hank's words popped up in his mind. "That boy's had a harsh life." He'd heard Hank's hunches, and now he made a few of his own.

"Where you from?" Logan asked, very non-interested like.

Remy looked at him from his toast, and Logan saw his red on black eyes harden in suspicion. "N'Awlins," he said guardedly.

"Thought I recognized it. Don't go South much- don't like the heat."

The hardness in Remy's eyes faded a bit. "An' Remy don't much like de cold."

"Then you better get used to it." He nodded at Bobby, who was unaware of his audience as he iced his water. Remy's eyebrows lifted and he gave a grin.

His lunch finished, Logan got up and left, his mind on the strange newcomer. He was no detective, but he was trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together.

xxx

The sounds of telephones, computers, and office hubbub faded into the background as Hank worked on the next order of business. _So much to do_, he thought. _And_ _I've only been gone a few days_. All the meetings to schedule, the speeches to plan, the research to be done... He became absorbed once again- there was nothing but him and his work...

"Mr. Ambassador?" Hank jerked up and stared at the serious-faced young man in front of him.

"Keith Norman! How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, sir, but I must talk to you. It's old school business."

Immediately the happiness of seeing one of his former and most trusted aides subsided. He pressed the intercom. "Alicia, I'll be unavailable for an hour." He got his coat and said in a normal voice. "Of course! Let's have lunch and catch up on old times."

Finding a secluded bench in the Constitution Gardens, they dropped the charade and got down to business. "Keith, what's happened?"

"Hank, do you remember the time that DOMA was founded?"

"Yes, after Alkali Lake, by President Russell. And when Cockrum came into office-" (1)

"He kept it, though it was treated as the unacknowledged bastard child."

"Keith, really."

"Hank," the low intensity of his voice was almost desperate, "In one of the 1st post-Alkali Lake investigations, we unearthed many covert government cells. Most died when light hit them. But Stryker's Washington outpost was gone. He'd cleaned it out before he left. But one of our intelligence officers just came across it's twin." He pulled out a disk. "He got all he could on this disk, but before he could finish, it was shut down from somewhere."

"Keith, why are you coming to me?"

Keith leaned back, and blew out a nervous breath. "We tried to root this one out, Hank. We pulled strings and called favors. But no one would touch it. It's out there, and it's dangerous. And everyone is turning a blind eye to it. We- I- thought you might be able to do something."

Hank placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll take a look at it and do what I can. Keep in touch." Then they parted ways, the knowledge they carried a physical burden on their souls.

xxx

Hank went to his office and closed the door. He didn't even put the disk in his computer, but took out his private laptop. The more the files opened, the more Hank felt an icy grip of inevitability threaten to choke him. As he reached for the intercom, a small, cynical part of him wondered if there was some law against having two crises within weeks of each other. He pushed the intercom.

"Alicia, I need to speak to the president at his earliest convenience."

xxx

"Mr Ambassador, what a surprise! What is it you wanted to see me about?" The president was affable and smiling. Hank sometimes had trouble thinking of this small, easygoing, elderly man as Commander in Chief. "Is it about the Belgium-"

"No, Mr. President, I'm afraid that my business is much more dark and serious in nature. It has been brought to my attention that there is, once again, a plot to do grievous harm to the mutant population. This time, however, it does not seem to have been granted much interest."

"If you're referring to the DOMA's concern, what exactly can I do? It was a single file they found once. The database has been thoroughly combed, with not a hint of-"

"Mr President, are you saying that there will be no proactive response to this?"

The president paced behind his desk, obviously uncomfortable. "Henry, this is a very minor matter-"

"I disagree. If we were given the same information as I was, you would be able to see that this will have a disastrous, and most likely fatal effect, on a sizable sum of the population. They are citizens, that have rights-"

The president stood over his desk, his face a hard mask."Mr. Ambassador, I am perfectly aware of the rights of citizens. I am not going to go on a wild goose chase for a blip on the monitors, not unless there is more evidence." He sat down, clearly indicating that they were finished talking. "That's my final word."

Hank stood there, silent, staring down. When he spoke, there was a quiet power in his voice. "Mr. President, I was chosen, throughout my political career, for my ability to do the right thing. When you gave me the position of ambassador, I took it, thinking that I would be able to do more good there than as secretary." He looked up, his eyes locking with the President's. "It seems, however, that I am unable to help those who need it the most from my office. Therefore, I'm going to where I can. I'm giving you my notice. Goodbye, Mr. President." And he left, quietly and quickly, before he could be called back.

xxx

(1): the name is taken from Chris Claremont's novelization.

Reviews:

The 42: Glad you like it; thanks for pointing out Logan's height- I just rewatched the 2nd movie, and 'short' is NOT the way to describe him.

Sara: I'm sorry, but I don't think this will be a ROMY- hope you'll continue reading.

Hawaiichick: Knew I could depend on you! You're awesome! Thank you for telling me how the pace is- I'm terrified of not going fast enough and getting tedious. Glad we agree on Bobby- He's definitely not a jerk in the movies; he puts up with Rogue and all her moods, God bless 'im.

The Singer in White- Nope. I think it was very unethical for them to just throw that out there at the very end. For all intents and purposes here, either the Professor's dead or on hiatus. Remy speaks a mix of 1st and 3rd person here.

Yersi Fanel: No, they've got reason. Remember: "We can't kill him unless we know he didn't pass any of the information on, or doesn't have any copies. There can be no loose ends." I'm glad you're enjoying it!

lelann37: Bobby and Remy as friends works pretty well; they're complete opposites, but manage to get along. Don't worry- there's no romy on the horizen.

a proud geekfreak: If I told you what was going to happen, you wouldn't keep reading! Patience, my young padawan...(sorry, but it's fun to say...)

surrealgreen: It's picking up speed... the plot is thickening... keep reading! You'll see more soon!

xxx

you like it, love it, hate it...tell me all about it!


	8. Settling In

Illegal Seizure

Chapter 8: Settling In

Summary: Hank levels with the staff, Danger Room for everyone!

Reviews- at the end of the chapter

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay- had a BAD case of writer's block- but I got better! School will be starting next week, so from then on it might be slow going. Be patient with me!

xxx

Remy was bored. Bobby had taken Hank's parting words to heart, and mostly kept Remy in his room, which was a guest room. Not that the room wasn't nice; it was luxurious. Heavy curtains, thick carpet, a soft double bed that had feather pillows. But Remy thought back longingly to the narrow, noisy, crowded streets of the Big Easy. He hated being cooped up. _Jus' as well_, he sighed. _Remy hates bein' stared at anyway. _If only there was something to do! He eyed the box with his things in it, sitting on a dresser. He got up and set it on the bed next to him. He found his wallet, and pulled out his Damian Black identification. Then, he grabbed his left boot and pulled out a hidden compartment which held his two other I..D.s and one of his credit cards.

After they all were safely stored away, Remy checked his coat. It was in terrible condition, with mud and blood crusted on it, and the shoulder was shredded. Checking his pockets, he searched more and more frantically.

"_Merde_!" He furiously threw the coat at the door and sank onto the bed, burying his head in his hands. His bo staff was gone. A gift from his father on his 10th birthday, it was his most prized possession. He threw himself face first into the pillows. He stayed like that, the pressure of the pillow enveloping his face, until he was startled by the sound of an implosion. Rising his head, he saw Kurt.

"I brought you up something to eat." He hesitated, then continued. "And thought you might vant some company."

Remy looked at the food. That he could use, but he didn't want company. So he just turned away. He was more tired then he could ever remember being- he didn't have the energy to get the demon out.

Kurt was perched on the back of a chair, still and silent as a gargoyle. He hadn't been told to leave, so he stayed. He brought from his pocket his rosary. Hearing the clink of metal and wood, Remy swung over, staring at Kurt. When he saw what was in Kurt's hands, and that no weapon had been drawn, he sat up. He figured that Kurt wouldn't go away til he'd eaten, so he took the tray and ate in silence. Then turned away again. Kurt took the tray and was gone in a flash.

Seeing that it was 6:50, Remy decided that he'd try to sleep. The sight of the rosary reminded him of some he'd known, before Jean-Luc had found him...

xxx

"Hank! Wha- Why- I thought you'd be gone for a few days!"

"Sorry, Ororo, but things changed."

"We finished with supper-"

"Never mind that. Get all the teachers together- now."

xxx

"I apologize for my suddenness, and in advance for my directness." Hank stood at the head of the briefing table, his face grim and set. "This is a file that was given to me less than eight hours ago. It could prove just as dangerous, if not more so, than anything previously dealt with. It's implications are terrible"

"Enough with the scare tactics, what is it?" Hank spared Logan a glance so cold it would have made Bobby shiver.

"This is not to be taken lightly." He once again addressed the group. "In this file recovered from a scan of government databases, outlining a subversive plot- "

"Cut the chase." Again, Hank's icy stare penetrated the interrupter. Then, very deliberately, he said exactly what the contents meant.

"This time the government is very pleased to turn a blind eye toward this. When I brought it to the president's attention, it was blown off."

Various exclamations came from the X-Men at this statement, including a very rude one muttered by a certain claw-toting member.

"There is no indication of when or exactly how this threat will be carried out, but when it comes, we will be on our own."

xxx

In the morning, when Bobby went to wake Remy up, he saw that all the blankets were tossed at the base of the bed, and that the sheets was pulled over and off one side. Going around, he found Remy, his body intertwined with the sheets. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, and Bobby could see his skin, many faint, and not-so-faint, scars, in a kind of random lattice work.

Remy's eyes opened, and for an instant, there was a look of panic. Then, blinking, he sat up became orientated, and disentangled himself from the sheets.

"How's your arm?" Bobby asked. Remy rolled it experimentally and stretched, grimacing a bit.

"It's doin' fine, _homme_. What time is it?"

"9:30."

"Y' know, it's a crime t' wake someone up dis early, wit' no coffee."

"We'll get some on our way down." Remy's head jerked a bit, but other then that, he made no comment. He got dressed quicky in some new clothes that he'd found in the dresser, put on his dirty, bloodstained coat (causing Bobby to make a face), popped on his sunglasses. When they passed the kitchen, Remy swigged down a cup of coffee and inhaled two donuts. Bobby led him down to the medlab, where Hank was waiting. He smiled when they entered, but it was a preoccupied smile one gives for superficial pleasantries.

"I'd like to check you arm. Sit, and take off your shirt and glasses, please." Removing the bandages, Hank inspected the wound, his eyebrows raising. "You seem to be healing very well." He went over to what looked like a CAT scan unit, and pressed a button. The bed like table slid out, and Hank motioned for Remy to lie down.

Remy had no inclination to do so. Seeing his reluctance, Hank assured him, "It's completely harmless. It's just a diagnostic instrument."

Remy got on and laid down. As the door closed and he was left in darkness, he experienced a moment of uncertainty.

Then lights came on.

Remy's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain and he held his eyes, white hot knives sinking into his brain. They alternated in a dizzying pattern, so bright...

The table slid out, and blinking through his tears he made out a shocked Bobby, concerned Hank, and a mildly inquisitive Logan. Remy was, to put it nicely, pissed. And his eyes wouldn't stop streaming. Silently, he stalked over and jammed his glasses on, heedless of Hank's apologies. Wiping his tears, he asked, in a "don't mess with me or you'll die a painful death" voice,

"Anyt'in' else?"

"Yeah, 'Ro wanted me to ask ya these questions." Logan indicated his clipboard, obviously not impressed. "Then, with the doc's permission, try ya in the Danger Room."

"_A'ccord_."

It was simple, really, name, date of birth, place of birth, etc. It didn't get tricky til Logan asked, "Parents' names?"

"No idea." _M' birth parents, dat is. Not tellin' y' m' pere's name._

"No sense akin' you about them then. Okay, powers?"

_Which one? _Remy thought. "Y' mean aside from Remy's good looks?"

"Enough bullshit, kid." Seeing Remy was stalling, Logan mentioned, "When we found you, there was signs of explosions. Do you make bombs?"

_Merde._ "M' power is to blow t'ings up." _An' I can prob'ly charm y' into fallin' in love with de furball over dere._ But he wasn't going to try it- he liked his face the way it was.

"Okay. Hank, can I take him?"

"As long as you don't rip his stitches. I'll be along soon. And may I have his record, please? I'd like to add my own notes."

Logan led him into a locker room. He threw Remy what seemed to be a leather body suit. Remy looked at it, looked at Logan, and looked at the suit again in disbelief.

"Ain't no way I'm wearing dis."

"Put in on. Now." Grudgingly, Remy did as he was told. In a measure of defiance, he pulled on his coat. Logan donned a similar suit. Remy followed him into a huge, empty room.

"Well?" Remy felt like an idiot. He was in a leather body suit, standing in an empty room. If Henri could see him now...

"Warm up sequence 354." As if by magic, a large mat appeared. Stepping onto it, Logan turned. "You know how to fight." It wasn't a question. "We'll start out easy." Logan took a stance, and Remy attacked. Remy was a bit rusty, but he soon fell into well-known rhythms. Logan was good; very good. He wasn't on the offense, but he didn't let any of Remy's attacks get through. Backing off, he turned and said, "Wolverine 218."

Immediately the mat melted, and they were in an alley similar to the one Remy had been attacked in. Logan turned. "Rules: Don't kill, first one down for three seconds loses." Remy nodded.

"Go."

As Logan came at him, he ducked and rolled. Remy was in fight-mode: he was aware of everything at once, but not focused on anything but his opponent. He kicked Logan, then sprang back. Logan landed a front jab, but Remy retaliated with a chop to the neck.

Suddenly, it wasn't Logan anymore. Remy sensed the change and fell back, hand in his pocket, readying his playing cards. In a flash Wolverine had six long knives, and he came at him.

Immediately the cards were out and flying, their pink aura shining. They surprised Wolverine, and, more importantly, stopped him in his tracks. They fell near his feet, detonating on contact. Remy jumped, using the distraction as an opportunity to knock Wolverine down. It didn't work well; Wolverine slashed at his legs as he passed. Up again, he pursued Remy, who with a leap landed on a garbage bin, and using his downward momentum and legs like a springboard, flew over the top of Wolverine, throwing two charged cards at his head and upper chest. They detonated, and Wolverine was down.

The surroundings faded, leaving Remy trembling from exertion and adrenaline.

"Fine work," boomed a voice. Five cards were charged and ready as Remy looked around for the source. There was a enclosed balcony attached to the ceiling, and in it he could see two blue figures: Hank and Kurt. In a literal flash, they were down, and by this time Logan was getting to his feet, the scorched skin rapidly healing.

"You pack a wallop, kid. Let's go and watch these two." Remy followed. In the locker room, Logan pulled something out of his jean pocket.

"I think this is yours." In his hands, he held Remy's bo staff. Remy stared, transfixed at the sight of something he'd thought he'd never see again. Then he snatched it, and in one fluid movement, extended and whipped it around expertly, reveling in how it became an extension of himself.

Logan could see in his eyes how he felt. "Come on," he urged gruffly, "Let's go."

Up a quick lift, and they went down a short hall and into the viewing deck. Logan pushed an few buttons, and then said, "Go for it."

The scenario that emerged was vastly different than the one Logan and Remy had fought in. It looked like something out of a video game. There were swiftly moving blocks of varying size and shape, crisscrossing and weaving about. Even with his legerity, Remy couldn't imagine navigating it.

"First one to touch the floor loses," Logan explained in a low voice. "This tests their agility."

Indeed, it did. Just keeping from being hit would have been a challenge, but on top of that, they sparred. Both used their talents to the maximum.

At first, Remy thought that Nightcrawler would have the advantage with his teleporting and aerobaticness. But the blocks moved to fast for him to use it to get Beast. Beast's agility and strength both worked to his advantage. They both moved faster than the eye could follow. Time lost all meaning; it was only those two, moving as if gravity had no hold on them.

At the end of the session, neither had touched the floor.

Next, Storm led in Bobby, Kitty, and some huge muscle guy that Remy'd seen yesterday. Logan got up. "This is their training session. Pretty boring- let's go."

Although he wanted to see the other X-Men, Remy reluctantly followed. Maybe he'd be able to convince someone into taking him to get some clothes- sweats were all very well, but they weren't very flattering.

xxx

Reviews:

lovestoread: glad you're sticking with me on this!

Hawaiichick: Thanks! As to the secret Hank/Logan conference, that will be explained next chap. Continue to review!

Ryan628: Thank you!

Yersi Fanel: You got that right with Logan!

nixxi311: Nope, no Romy.

surrealgreen: unfortunately, I don't know much about Mr. Sinister, and I've got my villian(s) lined up already and waiting!

xxx

Next: Remy goes shopping, and trouble ensues!


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